Golden Rule
by FiaraStreak
Summary: A Divergent fanfiction about Shay, a sixteen-year-old girl from Amity who has a dark past and is willing to flee to Dauntless to escape from it. Along the way she meets many friends, including character from the actual trilogy, Tobias Eaton. Is Shay strong enough to survive the Dauntless initiation?
1. Chapter 1

I really do hate my faction.  
I like to compare it to seafood, which I also hate. Seafood is so slimy and slippery and wet. It smells terrible. Every time I look at shrimp or lobster or clams, I want to puke my guts out. It's the same with my faction leaders. They are disgusting. I hate them so much that I want to go blind so that I'll never have to look at them again. So I'll never have to see their lying faces. I despise them.  
I am sometimes afraid that everyone can hear my thoughts if I think hard enough. These are not Amity thoughts. Garret and Renee- the current leaders of Amity- would look down on me disapprovingly if they could hear them. We do not use the word 'hate' in my faction. We do not use the word 'despise.' I know this because when I do, I am sent straight to the therapeutic room where I am injected with peace serum.  
And I hate that, too.  
I don't dislike everything about Amity. We aren't pressured to get good grades in school. We can run around inside and outside; the fields are endless. There are tons of greenhouses in the compound that store rare flowers and trees. I love those places. They are warm and quiet. I can climb up into some of the trees with lower branches. There I sit, reading a book or painting, sketching. I like to do this in the early morning or right after school lets out. I come to the greenhouses in winter, especially. I don't care what time. I only know that it is warm inside, and I am usually freezing.  
The chores aren't bad either. The girls help weed the gardens and pick the fruit from the orchards. I am one of the ones who climbs to the tops of the tallest trees to get the ripest fruit. We also have daily art classes outside of school. I love every kind of art. I can paint with watercolors, tempera, acrylics. I can sketch- grayscale or colored- sculpt and weave. I think Garret and Renee only go easy on me because I am so creative, like Amity children should be.  
We also have writing classes. They tell us we can write anything we want, but only teach us how to write poetry and fiction. Most everyone likes that, anyway. And they expect you to write happy things. I have never been that great at writing. (Besides, I wasn't going to write about rainbows and smiles. The only fiction I ever wrote was about a girl who killed herself. This resulted in a long interrogation and a small dose of peace serum.) My best friend, Kristin, can write poetry like no one I've ever met. Her words melt off the page like oil pastels or crayons, forming moving pictures, beautiful scenes of sunsets and ice-snow moonlit nights. I am the one who typically creates works of art about her pieces.  
Kristin is, and always has been, a typical Amity child. She smiles and laughs a lot, and only speaks of happy things. I don't know why, but we have always been best friends. In the summer we are allowed to pick flowers from the gardens, so Kristin and I find gorgeous ones to weave into our hair. Mine is long, dark brown, and is naturally curled into ringlets. Kristin has hair the color of sunshine, golden yellow and beautiful. She is a beautiful person, inside and out.  
I am not.  
Sometimes, before I go to bed, I sit on the floor of my room and curl my hands into fists. My nails cut into my skin, and I have to rinse the blood off of my palms before morning. Other times I scream into my hands or into my pillows until my voice dies. i curl myself into a ball and sob until my throat burns. I hit things. Once, I hit my mirror so hard, it shattered into tiny pieces. I told everyone that I had slipped and my hand had gotten cut on the glass. I never replaced it. I don't need to look at myself, anyway.  
We visited the Dauntless compound when I was twelve. Amity has a way of muscling their way into places they don't belong. We walked through the above-ground part. There were shops selling dangerous things. Guns, knives, punching bags. Things I had never touched. Things Amity has shut out of my life.  
I took one of the punching bags. I didn't pay for it, I stole it. It was small, but I could barely carry it by myself. I got it onto the cart we were dragging around, and I managed to sneak it into my bedroom. I hide it in my closet. My knuckles are scabbed over from all the times I've hauled it out for practice. I try to forget that I stole it. I try to forget that I am a criminal. I try to forget a lot of things. But I can't. So I just hit the bag harder.  
I have watched others in my faction that are around my age. They joke and laugh and talk about silly, petty things. They pretend to be nice to everyone, but they exclude the world without even knowing it. They think they are happy.  
They don't see. But I do.  
I notice the teachers in our faction classes. Their smiles don't quite reach their eyes. They tell us we can express ourselves in any way we want. But only according to their rules, their ideas of peace. If we are violent, they inject us with a serum that makes us giddy for hours. If we speak incorrectly, they chastise us and make us do something nice for the person or people we insulted or wronged. If we rebel against the guidelines in any way, they always have a solution that will keep us calm. They lie when we ask about the outside world. They want us to live in our happy little bubble forever under their deceiving eyes.  
My bubble burst a long time ago. When I was five. When I was orphaned for the rest of my life. When I watched my parents die at the hands of Amity.  
My parents didn't come in to kiss me goodnight. They always did, so I knew something was wrong. I went to find them. I don't remember how I got there, but I do remember a ringing in my ears as I walked past the security guards and looked in through the glass at my parents. They were angry, maybe shouting, but I couldn't hear them. I saw one of the doctors hit my father. They restrained him and then injected him with a serum that I have never encountered since that day. He shuddered and went limp. I screamed and cried and pounded on the glass, shouting their names. My mother saw me, and started crying. They injected her, too. The men and women in lab coats pulled me away, trying to calm me down. I slapped them. Hard. They injected me with the peace serum.  
I remember her. Renee. She was the one who injected the liquid into my parents' necks. Her hair was caramel and chin-length. She was tall, with a menacing look in her unique raven-blue eyes. They were so dark. I thought she was a monster, possessed by dark magic. She walked out of the room and stared down at me. I shivered in fear.  
The Amity leaders think I have forgotten. I asked about my parents after that night and Renee knit her brows together and lied. To my face. I swallowed hard and pretended to believe her.  
But I will never trust anyone again. And I will never be part of the damnation that is the faction called Amity.


	2. Chapter 2

"Shay!"  
I hear Kristin's voice in my dream. Her arms are stretched towards me. Her golden hair floats around her as though she's underwater, and her eyes are completely white and demon-like.  
"Help me, Shay!"  
She sounds panicked, like she is being chased, like she's running out of time. I can't move. My feet are rooted to the spot. I reach for her, and my movement is slow, like I'm passing through syrup. My fingertips brush against hers, and a searing heat races through my hand. I pull away, stunned.  
There are thick, red tears pouring down Kristin's face. She screams as her entire body turns red-orange-yellow, like flame, like fire. She is burning. I don't know what to do. So I just scream with her. My voice sounds far away.  
I wake up.  
My heart and head are pounding. I press a shaking hand to my temple, as though I can force the dream away. I have had it before. Twice. I don't know what this means. I don't understand.  
A sob breaks my throat. I cover my mouth and feel the wetness pour down my nose and between the spaces in my hand. I bend over my sheets, trying to hide the tears. No one can see. I won't let them.  
After a few minutes, I stop, wiping my face and climbing out of bed. I go to my bathroom to clean myself up. I do have a mirror in there. I try to avoid looking in it, but right now I need to look like I haven't been crying. I turn on the faucet and splash cold water onto my face. This wakes me up. I dry off with a towel and blink to clear the sleep away. I stare at my reflection.  
The mirror shows my body from the waist up. Tall, tan, dark brown hair. It's a little frizzy; I smooth it down. Dark eyes, thin nose, wide lips. And skinny. I am far too skinny. I always have been.  
I square my shoulders and set my jaw. Today I take my aptitude test. The test all sixteen-year-olds from every faction take. We go to school for however long before our scheduled testing time. I am lucky. My test is in the morning. The Amity let their members go home after they take the test. I won't have any classes.  
I look at my reflection for only a second longer before turning away. I head to my closet to pick out my clothes. I shirts and pants in every color- even black. I select a forest green sweatshirt with a hood, but no zipper, and tight denim pants. It is March, and still cold, so I wear socks and shoes instead of going in bare feet, which I often do towards the end of school.  
I brush out my curls; they bounce back into place. I shake them back, trying to de-frizz my head. It works, but I know it will not last all day. Before I head down to the cafeteria for breakfast, I put on some finger-less gloves and a hat. I check my face one last time, to make sure there are no stains left over from the tears.  
I live in a dorm. Since I am an orphan, I can't live at home with my family. I get a room to myself, but I have to deal with other orphans my age. There are others who live here besides children: people who have chosen Amity who are still single, and all initiates when they come. I have notice that they are clearing out rooms for the initiates now. Each room consists of a bedroom, bathroom and 'dining room.' We are technically supposed to eat in the cafeteria- which is open to the public, but there for us- but we are allowed to take food up to our rooms if we need more peace.  
I am on the third floor, not the highest, but still up there. I have to trudge down three flights of stairs to get to the lobby, where I pass a few people who are up and wandering.  
I push against the door; it is freezing cold. The wind chills my skin, and I force the door closed behind me. Sticking my hands in my sweatshirt pocket, I walk on. The cafeteria is across from the dorm. There are lines of trees in between, but only five or six. It isn't too far away. They wouldn't make us walk that far. After all we're orphans- or we're just lonely.  
I reach the doors in less than two minutes. The building is made of brick, wide and warm. I press my narrow shoulder into the metal and the door swings inward. There are a number of people here already. Most are my age, anxious to eat early, anxious for the test. I don't bother putting a smile on my face. I act nervous, too; it isn't hard.  
I scan the crowd for Kristin. I know she will be here. She always rises early. I am afraid at first when I don't see her. I am afraid that my dream was real. But then I spot her golden hair, as she tosses it over her shoulder. She has a tray full of food, and she walks to a table to sit down.  
I want to call to her, but I don't. The image of her burning flashes through my mind. I walk confidently towards the table, knowing she will look up. When she does, I see her white demon-eyes. I shudder and blink to clear my vision. Kristin's face breaks into a smile.  
"Shay!" she calls, patting the space beside her. I cover the short distance and slide in, taking off my hat and smoothing down my hair. I notice she's sitting with Fiona, Landen, and Hamar.  
"Hi," I say quietly. Fiona smiles politely, Landen quirks an eyebrow and Hamar just nods.  
"You seem a little stressed, Shay," Landen tells me.  
"Oh, Shay's always stressed," Kristin laughs. "That's why she doesn't smile!"  
I ignore her comment. "Well it isn't like I should be happy thar I'm about to take a test that determines where I belong for the rest of my goddamned life, and that's believing that I even fit into someone's fucking category."  
Kristin gives another laugh, a nervous one at my strong language, and Fiona frowns. Her eyebrows are thin and brown, arching down, almost touching between the middle of her blue eyes. "You shouldn't curse, Shay," she scolds.  
"You mean she shouldn't get caught!" Landen laughs. There are too many smiles. I meant to make them angry. I ball my fists. Why aren't they angry?  
Hamar grins. His brown skin is lined where his mouth is, making it look lighter and more jovial. His dark eyes look mischievous. "I'll bet she curses out the aptitude test and gets more peace serum."  
Landen agrees. "I think Shay's had more of that than all four of us combined." He sweeps his blonde hair back out of his face to look at me. He won't stop smiling. "In fact, Shay might hold a world record in the category of flipping out." I want to punch him.  
"You dick," I mutter.  
"Shay!" Fiona exclaims.  
Landen and Hamar get a kick out of my attitude. They laugh, loud and hard, slapping their knees, practically hooting. "Don't worry about it," Landen gasps. "I deserved it." He wipes tears from his eyes.  
"Even so..." Fiona starts, lips tight.  
"Everyone is under so much pressure," Kristin says evenly. "Why don't we discuss something a little more peaceful?"  
The other three agree, changing the subject immediately. I can't help but notice that Landen keeps glancing in my direction, still playfully grinning. I swear, I will punch him if I get the chance.  
I don't participate in the conversation. They talk about sports and games and all the latest news. I don't care about those things. I can only focus on the aptitude test. All the different possibilities. Abnegation. Amity. Candor. Dauntless. Erudite. Even though I do not believe in categories, I want to know where I belong. I wish I could fast-forward to school so that I can just get it over with.  
The four of them stop talking after about ten minutes.  
"You haven't eaten anything, Shay," Hamar notices.  
"No," I reply stiffly. "I'm not really very... hungry." I don't usually have meals. My food intake consists of what I pick from the gardens and orchards. I don't trust the food they give us. Everyone is too happy after they eat for me to want to consume anything from those kitchens.  
Kristin twists her mouth to one side. "You never eat, Shay," she says gently. "Has something been bothering you? You know you can always tell me anything."  
I very nearly glare at her. Has something been bothering me? Where the hell has she been for the last ten years of my life? I didn't think she would ask. She never has before! I don't know what's wrong with her today.  
"In case you haven't noticed, I never eat here," I reply. My voice is almost cold. Almost. "Yet, I'm still alive, so my food must be coming from somewhere."  
"But you're so..." Fiona starts, like she doesn't want to finish her sentence.  
"Skinny?" Landen offers.  
I do glare at him.

We take the bus to school. The Amity compound is really far away from the city, where school is, so no one walks. Most people drive their kids to school. Us in the dorm use the bus for free. It's one of the faction's many gifts to the less fortunate. It's really a wonder they aren't part of Abnegation.  
Thinking about that faction makes me think about the test. To pass time, I begin to evaluate each of the factions in my head.  
I start with Abnegation. The selfless. I have always admired them. They are so caring, so genuine. They give without a second thought. They are so gentle. I feel as though that kind of peace would be different from the peace of Amity. Of course, there are certain aspects of that life that I dislike. Having to hide yourself, wearing gray all the time, not looking in mirrors, eating plain food, being a plain person. And not being able to ask questions. I won't be able to know whether they are lying or not. And I'm sure they do lie. I would hate that. And I think I wouldn't belong among them, me with my harsh tongue and violent nature.  
I move on to Amity. The peaceful, the serene. The faction who gave me shelter. The place where I sit in greenhouses and climb trees and pick fruit. The cursed liars. The faction that ripped me from my parents. The place where I avoid the suspicious food. The faction that made me into a hard person. A person who doesn't trust anymore. Because of them, I am twisted. Because of them, I am cruel. Because they taught me to be. I grit my teeth and stop thinking about them, because I know I will never belong there.  
Next is Candor. The honest. I have always wonder about Candor. They seek the truth there, which I've wanted more than anything for a good portion of my life. I want to know things I want people to be honest with me. But there are parts of myself that I would rather keep hidden from people. I don't want to share secrets; I don't want to reveal my true self. I suppose what I really want is for people to tell me the truth, but I don't want to return the favor. I obviously don't belong in Abnegation.  
Dauntless. The brave, the fierce. The faction that doesn't care about violence, or cursing, or self-abuse. The faction that I have watched for many years now. The faction hat I feel I belong in; I just know I would be accepted for who I am there. I can be sarcastic or I can be silent. Best of all, I can take out anger on other people. I can use a gun, a knife, a punching bag. I don't have to hide. I can be free. I am Dauntless to the bone.  
Last of all, Erudite. The intelligent. I have never really been very smart. I do seek knowledge and power, but I could never really envision myself joining that faction. The people are too... cold. Too superior, and besides, I would most likely be thrown into the faction less sector because I am not smart enough to pass their tests. Math, science, blech. Who needs them, anyway? To them, if you aren't intelligent, you are nothing. Nothing but janitor, bus-driver, garbage truck-worthy. Screw the Erudite. I prefer people who actually kind of have a life.  
I feel a bump. The bus is normally loud, crowded, and rickety, so going over bumps in the road doesn't bother me. But I felt this one all the way down my spine. I twist in my seat. A familiar blonde boy is smiling down at me. Oh, God. Just great.  
"Hey there, Shay-la," he says, sliding into the seat next to me.  
"What the hell do you want, Landen?" I reply immediately. He laughs. I hate him so freaking much. So fucking much.  
"Why are you so rude, Shay? Honestly, I wish there were more people like you. You are, on occasion, hilarious!"  
"Yeah, that's funny. I thought my pessimistic attitude and violent behavior would totally make me a fucking comedian." His eyes sparkle as he laughs again. Goddamnit, why won't he get angry! Do I have to resort to my potty mouth to drive him away?  
"I like you, Shay," Landen chuckles. "You make me laugh."  
"I had no idea," I say sarcastically. I take my hat off again and smooth down my hair. I tuck some of it behind my ear as I turn to look out my dirty glass window. The city skyline is coming into view. We're almost there, thank God.  
I turn back around, hoping to find Landen gone, but he still sits, a goofy grin stuck on his face like he's a lovesick child. Before I know it, he's kissing me. On the lips. His mouth and mine. Touching. Goddamnit.  
I push away after two seconds of surprise, shoving him hard into a pole on the bus. My stomach flips, but his head doesn't hit metal. Good. I didn't kill him. I can be very forceful sometimes.  
"Stay away from me," I say, voice loud over the noise of the bus. "Don't ever do that again, goddamn you! You fucking idiot!"  
The bus driver looks in her front mirror at us. "Is someone using inappropriate language back there?" she asks. I just glare at Landen as he struggles to his feet. No one helps him. Some people are still staring, open-mouthed. Some people are frowning and shaking their heads. Some people are whispering and some are silently laughing. Maybe at my violence. Maybe at my language. Maybe at him kissing me. There is hurt in his eyes. Good.  
"I thought you were my friend, Shay." Landen's voice shakes. His lip trembles.  
I am disgusted. "When did I ever express anything except hostility towards you? When! And even if we were friends- which we weren't, and we certainly aren't now- that is all I would be! A friend! Try and get it through your thick skull that I do not like you!"  
My first thought is that I can't believe I didn't curse through that whole speech. My second thought is that I just broke Landen. He sobs into his hands. Good. I can't believe I'm thinking that. Good.


	3. Chapter 3

We reach the city within ten minutes. The bus lurches to a stop, throwing everyone on board forward in their seats. The jolt rattles through my bony frame. I rub my shoulder, which was jammed into the glass of the window at the sudden halt. I hear the swish of the bus doors opening.  
"Alright! Everybody off," the driver says, not unkindly. Of course, she adds, "Have a lovely day!" I roll my eyes. I expect to be reprimanded for attacking Landen, but when I pass her, the bus driver says nothing. I am surprised. Maybe today won't be so bad after all. I have to admit, so far, this hasn't been a good start. I rush down the bus steps, happy to be free of the rickety old vehicle.  
The school building is enormous; all of us, from every faction, go there. We have grades up until tenth. The aptitude tests are taken in March, so those with birthdays after that have to repeat a year in order to properly fit with the rest of us. My section, for the 'seniors' or the oldest, is in the back of the school. I have to walk past the courtyard, which is full of trees like the ones back home, and around the garbage dump. When I finally reach the doors to the entrance, I have walked about a mile.  
I pull the door open and slip inside, making sure to walk with my head down and my hands in my pockets. Most people avoid me if I do this, which I like. My destination is my locker. It is, unfortunately, towards the middle of the hall, which means another long walk for me.  
Kristin has a locker next to mine. She is already gathering her things when I get there. I don't say anything, because I know she will start the conversation. "Hi, Shay!" she says, closing her locker with a slight bang. All her stuff is in her arms.  
"Hi," I reply. I quickly get my things: my current book, a pencil, and a pen. I turn to Kristin. "Is your test scheduled for the afternoon?" I ask.  
"Yeah,'' she sighs. "I have to have all my classes." Her face twists into an expression that I have never seen before: jealousy. But it is gone in an instant. She smiles. "Had any freak attacks lately?"  
I shrug. I'm not going to tell her about Landen. She'll find out from someone else. We enter our morning room and wait for the announcement for all sixteen year olds taking their aptitude test between 9:00 and 10:00 this morning to report to the auditorium. I say good-bye to Kristin and leave.  
There are about fifty or sixty of us here. We sit and wait for our turn. I don't have to wait too long. My name is called about five minutes after I sit down. "Shayla Adduct." I stand and follow the Dauntless man into a small room with mirrors on all the walls. There is a chair with little electrodes, for my head, I suspect.  
The man tells me to sit in the chair, then attaches the sensors to my forehead and temples. "I'm Terence," he says. "You're Shayla?"  
"Shay," I reply, then raise an eyebrow. "Terence?"  
"Erudite." He turns and pulls out a small bottle of liquid. He holds it up to the light, checking for something. Seemingly satisfied, he uncaps it and hands it to me. "You know, normally, Shay, we put this kind of serum into a syringe, but for the aptitude test we use a bottle. Some kids are squeamish about needles." He looks at me expectantly. I shrug and down the bottle.  
A few seconds later the room goes black and I am instead in the school cafeteria. But there are no windows, only one door. On an empty table in front of me, there is a basket containing a knife and cheese. I hear a voice say, "Choose."  
I look over my shoulder, but there's no one there. I turn back to the basket. The smart thing to do would be to take both. I am not hungry, though. I reach for the knife. As soon as it's in my hand, the basket and the cheese disappear.  
The door in the corner opens, and in comes a ferocious-looking dog. Huge, black, pointed ears and snout, sharp teeth that are bared, coming towards me. I roll my eyes. "Seriously?" I mutter. "A dog?" The test woman doesn't answer, so I guess I'm supposed to just... I look at the knife in my hand...  
Kill it?  
The dog creeps slowly forward. I twirl the knife in my hand casually and strike a cheesy defensive pose. If this is a game, I will play it. The canine rushes at me, and I sidestep. To my surprise, it follows my movement and barrels into me. I am slammed against the wall. Now I am angry. I will not fail this test. I may be skinny, but I am sharp. I drive my elbow into the dog and kick at it. It scrambles off of me, turning for another attack. I leap on it before it gets the chance, pinning it down with much difficulty. My knife is in my hand. I can kill it, but I must be quick. Within two seconds, the dog is dead, and there is blood on my knife.  
I stand and brush myself off. The weapon clatters to the floor. I begin to cry. I just killed a dog. I know it is not real, but it feels real. In real life, I would not have done that. I remind myself that, so I know I'm not a monster.  
The scene changes. I am in a white room with a door at the end. I wait, but there doesn't seem to be anything here. I stride towards the door, pushing it open and onto a bus. The sudden lurching movement throws me off-balance. I grab a pole and look around. This one is different than the one I ride in the morning. It is more like a tram. It is what the Abnegation take to school. There is only one man in this car. He has burns on his hands and he is reading a newspaper.  
I creep forward, trying to read the front page. There is another man that I recognize very much, with a big WANTED sign above his head. The man with the burns sees me and flips the paper to the front where the fugitive is.  
"Do you know this guy?" he demands. His eyes look crazed.  
I feel like I do know the guy. "Yeah." I shrug. "You got a problem?"  
He responds by lunging at me, hands wrapping around my throat. I karate-chop his wrists, then kick him in the knees. He falls and I then step on his stomach. He groans and I smile. "Never do that again."  
I wake up in the chair, Terence standing over me. There is a crease between his eyebrows, but he smiles at me. "Someone's a little violent, aren't they?" I shrug. I seem to be doing that a lot lately.  
Terence takes the electrodes off of my head and helps me out of the chair. "Well, you can go, Shay. You're from Amity, aren't you?" he says.  
"Wait," I say, confused. "What's my result?"  
Terence looks startled. "You're Dauntless, of course."


	4. Chapter 4

The Choosing Ceremony is tomorrow. I am lying in bed. My eyes are wide open, and my chest throbs. I keep taking deep breaths, as though air will help calm my nerves. My stomach twists violently when I think about what I did to the dog. I shut my eyes to try and keep the images out, but they just keep coming back. I try my usual method of pressing a hand to my temple, but nothing really helps.  
I think of Kristin. She told me after her test that she got what she had hoped for. I am happy for her, I really am. It's just that we've been growing apart ever since the start of this year. I feel like I've gotten tired of her. Like I'm worn out. I can't face her tomorrow. I will have to try and ignore her. I don't want to see her face when I choose Dauntless, because I know she will be heartbroken.  
The cold air blows in from my open window. I normally sleep all closed up, but tonight I feel so claustrophobic that I had to let in some kind of light.  
The covers on my bed are making me too hot, so I get up to look out into the night. The moon is out, casting its light over the buildings and trees. It illuminates the night. It isn't full, and it isn't a crescent. It is almost whole, ready to fill the gap and mend its brokenness. For a reason I can't explain, it comforts me.  
I close my eyes and breath in deeper. I feel frail as the wind blows against my bony frame. It has been a while since I've gotten enough sleep. Tonight I should think about doing just that. I curl up on my bed again, covers off, and lay there until I fall asleep.

When I wake up, it still feels early. I check my clock and see that I have enough time to get ready. The room feels ice-cold now, and I begin to shiver. I get up and close my window, then head to the bathroom to take a hot shower.  
I change into my favorite outfit: a forest green t-shirt, black jacket, tight black pants, and dirty black hunting boots that I really love. Amity may disapprove of them, but soon I will not be one of them.  
I feel giddy with excitement, rather than the nervous wreck I was last night. I brush out my hair, not caring if it's frizzy. Before I leave, I look around at my room. I feel as though I should do something to make a statement. This will be the last time I ever set foot in here. Luckily, I have very few items to take with me. I can't take my punching bag, so I bring it out of my closet and slam it down on my unmade bed. I grin; there. That should please them. I rummage through my nightstand and choose my favorite items. A black pen. A small flashlight that's also a penknife. A silver key necklace. I tuck all three of the items into my pockets, not before drawing the Dauntless flames onto the palm of my hand with the pen.  
I walk down to breakfast with confident strides. Everyone notices me. I try to be loud in my boots. People don't get angry, of course. They just smile nervously and look away. I find a place to sit, and entertain myself by writing all over my arms.  
Kristin shows up about five minutes after me. She looks a bit startled at first by my appearance, but smiles quickly to cover it up. She sits down next to me and laughs. "Don't you look bold! It really brings out your personality, Shay!" Kristin squeezes my shoulder.  
She, of course, looks absolutely stunning. She is wearing a purple v-neck top with belled, three-quarter length sleeves and a gathered middle. Her pants are a dark blue, and she is wearing matching purple flats. Her hair is curled and tied back, so she looks like some medieval princess in modern clothes.  
"And you look... very nice as well," I reply, trying to keep the jealousy out of my voice. I probably look stupid next to her. But I remind myself that it doesn't matter. I remind myself that soon, I will be Dauntless. Again when she talks about her excitement, and again when we part ways.  
Everyone on the bus chatters loudly about the ceremony. I catch bits and pieces of conversation, but it seems I am the only one not speaking. A few minutes before we enter the city, I glance back to see if I can see Landen. I find him in a seat by himself, two behind me and to the left. He isn't talking either, so I guess I'm not the only one. He doesn't look sad, but he doesn't look as happy is he did yesterday. Some of the life has gone from his eyes.  
Okay. I should not be able to notice that. And it does not concern me. Even though I am responsible. I start to think that maybe I shouldn't have been so cold. But I can't take it back, and I certainly can't make it better. I turn off his lonely face. He will not ruin this day for me.  
I stand with my faction in a long line that protrudes from the central building. I crane my neck to stare up at the domed ceiling. When we finally enter, the Abnegation leader, Marcus Eaton, is standing on the stage. The other factions stand erect in their own separate areas of the building. The Abnegation are gray, the Dauntless black, the Erudite blue, the Candor random, and us, we are colorful. I don't mind that.  
"Shay!" Kristin calls my name from across the sea of colors. Her hand waves above all others. I turn, stone-faced, to Marcus. He begins the ceremony with the telling of the war, and the creation of the factions. I daze through the rest. All the while, I can sense Kristin slowly making her way towards me.  
Finally, Marcus begins to call names. By this time, Kristin has reached me. "So," she whispers. "You'll be going soon." She's right. With a last name like Adduct, I don't have to wait long.  
"Yeah," I say, swallowing hard. "And Kristin-" I break off here, wiping the sweat off my hands. They are still covered in ink. I take a deep breath. "Whatever I choose... I want you to know... that you will always be my best friend." I hug her right there, then pull back. She is shocked, as am I. I hardly ever make contact with people.  
"But, what do you mean-" she starts, but my name is next. I turn away.  
I climb the steps, some of my excitement and nervousness returning. Marcus hands me the knife when I reach him. No one speaks, but I can hear some murmuring, probably about my appearance. I grip the knife handle hard in my right hand, and cut into my left one. Then I approach the bowls.  
This should be easy. I should just open my hand and drop my blood onto the coals. But I can't help thinking about Kristin. I don't know where all of my sympathy is coming from, but I need to get rid of it. I thrust my hand forward and my blood sizzles on the coals.  
The whole of the Amity faction gasps.  
But I don't care. I'm not one of them anymore. I'm free.

Later on in the the ceremony, the Abnegation faction gasps as well. A boy named Tobias Eaton transfers to Dauntless. I think he is Marcus's son. He walks over and stands next to me. He towers over me, even though I am tall. I might be imagining things, but I think I see him glance in my direction, as though my move was just as bold as his.  
Maybe it was.  
Maybe we are alike.


End file.
